A SONG Rebekah Carmichael (later Hay) Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T104666 Carmichael, Miss (Rebekah) (fl. 1790-1806). Poems. Edinburgh Peter Hill 1790 pp. 7-9. 92p.

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A SONG At night , when each mortal is laid to repose , My breast ever throbs , and my eyes never close ; I wander alone , my fond heart to console , And think on Alexis , the pride of my soul . Then farewel , my love , my Alexis , adieu ! For I breathe without feeling since banish'd from you . In vain the soft zephyr waves over my head , And the moon's pallid glory beams through the dark shade ; For the mild orb of even is lost to my view , And the wind blows too rudely when absent from you . At morn when gay Phoebus brings vigour and light , I view the sweet scene with a languid delight ; For my eyes stream with anguish as oft as I see The smiles of the morning , which mind me of thee . My heart with the ocean I'm apt to compare , Where the sun brings relief in the midst of despair ; So thy image reflected relieves my distress , And kindles emotions I cannot express . I wander unmov'd by the murmuring rill ; What made my heart flutter now makes it lie still ; With coldness uncommon these pleasures I view ; I think on the castle , the cottage , and you . I shun the gay circle wherever they come , They tell me I'm sullen , ill-natur'd , and dumb ; I sigh and say nothing ; for what can I do ? Yet my eyes surely answer I'm thinking on you . But why should I languish ? I'll go and be prest To the parent of nature , and lie on her breast : She'll tell me how vain are the hopes I pursue ; For life's but a labour when absent from you ! No longer Louisa shall sigh for her swain , Nor her feelings be hurt with contempt and disdain ; In the cold arms of death no rude passion shall wound ; Tho' her pillow be damp , yet her sleep shall be sound . Then farewel , my love , my Alexis adieu ! For I soon will crease breathing since banish'd from you !